Reflection for the 19th Sunday in Ordinary Time

Her mother died of cancer when she was 12. Her mother had suffered for almost four years, but despite the tests and surgeries and chemo, she was the best mom and friend a child could have. Every day ended with mother and daughter spending time together; every night her mom tucked her in with a kiss: “I love you to the moon and back.”

Though not unexpected, her mom’s death was devastating to her.

The morning after her mother’s funeral, she woke up to find a box on the desk in her room. Her dad had placed there after she finally fell asleep. She opened the box to find a collection of envelopes, each addressed “to my beautiful daughter.” There were envelopes to be opened “on your 16th birthday,” “on completing your leaving cert.,” “on the day you leave for college,” “on your graduation from college,” “on the first day of your first full-time job,” “on your 21st birthday,” “on your 30th birthday.”

There were also cards to be opened “when things go bad,” “after a painful break-up,” “when you feel alone.”

An envelope for every milestone in a young woman’s life, each a mother’s words of comfort and wisdom to her daughter.

The last three envelopes in the box: “on your engagement,” “on the day of your marriage,” “on the birth of your first child.”

Over the next several years, she would open the envelopes and read what her mother wrote during those last weeks of her life — and her mom was with her, offering encouragement, counsel and hope at this milestone in her life, always ending with “I love you to the moon and back.”

The last envelope was opened the day her own daughter was born. In the envelope was a photo: a picture of her mother holding her when she was six months old. The card read:

“Congratulations on becoming a mother. What a lucky little baby my grandchild is to have you for her mom. You’ll be a terrific parent. May your child bring you as much joy as you brought to your dad and me. Love her to the moon and back.”

A mother’s love continues to embrace her daughter even after her death. The words she leaves behind are a form of “manna,” the manifestation of God’s grace in her daughter’s life; the “bread of life” that is Jesus’ compassion and care.

As Jesus, the “bread of life,” gave “life” to the world through his selfless compassion and humble servanthood to others, this mom uses the little time she has to provide guidance and care for each milestone of her daughter’s life, both the good and the challenging. She is an inspiration to all of us called to be the bread of Christ’s love for all, the “manna” of God’s grace to our communities.  Today’s Gospel confronts us with what we consume and what consumes us.  To reassess what “fuels” our lives: to feast on the “manna” of God’s compassion and justice, to break bread with one another in a spirit of gratitude and humility for the gifts of the earth God has entrusted to us for the good of all.   Because eventually, it leads us from the “murmuring” of anger and despair to the “manna” of awareness and gratitude for the joy and meaning of life in God. The late Maya Angelou said: “If you must look back, do so forgivingly. If you must look forward, do so prayerfully. However, tthe wisest thing you can do is be present in the present . . . gratefully.”

May we discover the manna that God rains down lovingly each morning of our lives; may Christ, the new manna, be our bread and drink on our own exoduses to the dwelling place of God.